Holding Immortality
by Danny Phantom SG-1
Summary: During AWE and partially a missing scene. Will's perspective during...that part that I can't say without too many spoilers...and afterward. Please R&R.


**A/N: My first attempt at PotC fanfiction. I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE beyond words the third movie (especially Will) and felt like writing from his perspective of the moment he was ((sobs)) killed. But I loved it and that part was amazingly amazing, so...let me know what you think! Thanks!**

**BTW: I know the first two paragraphs are in past tense and the rest is present. That is done intentionally, as the first two are a quick little "recap/flashback" and the rest is "currently happening". :)**

Holding Immortality

It's an odd feeling really. Dying. Not anything like I expected…though I must say this method of death suits my expectations. Why, just a second ago, I was smiling confidently and glancing at Elizabeth (huge mistake, apparently) with reassurance. Jack had Davy Jones's heart. He wouldn't hurt me for fear of being killed.

Wrong.

Just as I was getting ready to rise and attempt a defense for both myself and Elizabeth, I felt an unfamiliar and unpleasant sensation in my chest. At first, it was just a prick, then my world exploded in pain as whatever it was that was wounding me was plunged still further into my chest…my heart, I realized with bitter irony.

I can't believe he did it. I am stunned beyond words…then again, even if I could think of anything to say, something tells me I wouldn't have the strength to say it.

I hear her call my name…my wife. She rushes over to me and attempts to get me to look at her…to stay with her…and I do try, but I can't. It hurts too much. I realize with sudden horror what I will be leaving behind if I let this pain overpower me, but it is impossible to fight this. It's too much. I can hear a vague commotion going on around me and suddenly, I feel a presence on my other side. Elizabeth is talking to this other figure, shouting, begging for help, and I can only hope dully that whoever it is will not worsen this situation for her.

I can feel my arm being lifted into the air and, as death encloses around me, I feel my hand enclose around something long and smooth. It feels like the hilt of a sword…yet the object is light, like a dagger (though if feels considerably heavier thanks to my dysfunctional muscles). I am utterly confused, but I have no time to think this situation through and no energy to protest. The hand that is holding my wrist seems somehow familiar, though I can't figure if it is in a good way or a bad way. I decide to play the role of the optimist and attempt to hold my arm taught so as to help this person accomplish their task. I feel my hand drop and hear a sickening noise and a thud as the dagger (sword?) hits the floor of the Flying Dutchman.

Suddenly, there is dead (no pun intended, thank you) silence throughout the ship. I hear a splash, but my hearing seems to be severely impaired now. Elizabeth keeps yelling, talking to me, telling me not to give up, but I don't even have the wherewithal to let her know that I already have.

Death is gripping me harder and harder in its grasp. I can no longer manage to breathe futile air into my pathetic lungs. Elizabeth screams as I feel my muscles relax. She is fighting someone, saying she won't leave me. I silently beg whoever it is to take her away to safety; don't let her see me give up. I can't be weak for her.

I think I am dead, but something strange begins to happen. I think my heart has stopped beating, but then it feels as if it's not even there. How is that possible? I awaken (Awaken? I though I was dead!) to a pair of eyes staring sadly at me. Those eyes I recognize.

"The Dutchman needs a captain. He who stabs the heart of Davy Jones is the new captain," my father says, not unkindly.

"What? But—but I didn't…"

Did I?

It all floods to me in an ocean of realization. The figure…it was Jack. He…he gave up his chance at immortality to save…me? Jack Sparrow was a man out for his own needs. Somehow, this didn't seem to fit that repute.

"Why?" I ask myself aloud.

My father smiles wryly. "I guess Cap'n Jack Sparrow is as unpredictable as his reputation suggests."

Or he really does have a heart. Something I can no longer say, I think resentfully.

"So…what be your orders…Captain Turner?"

I am startled to hear myself addressed as such. Granted, it is not the first time anyone has called me that…but that was only temporary. Now, it is who I am…the captain of the Flying Dutchman, the most notorious and infamous ship in the ocean.

And I'm not about to tarnish its reputation.

"Let's give a little help to an old friend. I think Lord Beckett deserves a little payback for what's been done, Jack Sparrow deserves a token of my gratitude, and Elizabeth deserves my protection. Let's accomplish all of that in one fell swoop."

My father smiles and signals at the crew to get the ship above the surface.

"Aye, Captain."


End file.
